Blood Red Curtains

The night of my nineteenth birthday is one I don’t think I’ll be forgetting anytime soon, the night Doc Scott played his set at the International Players Lounge nightclub. It was huge, half of Perth was there, I’m not so sure whether or not it was the good half but that was never really of any concern to me, my friends and I were just after a good time.

Five of us arrived at the front door of the club but only two of us managed to go any further, so into the mist we ventured. Huge bass lines pumped so loud they blurred my vision as I walked through the foyer and descended the stairs into another world. A world that welcomes those who approach with the caution and respect it commands, those who walk through the portal and take it for what it is, those who have been damaged but decide to return. A world that rejects those who just don’t know, the dabblers, the one timers, those who run- tail where tails go, those who fall- never again to see the light of day.

I approached with a well-practiced ease, sliding through the crowd without stepping on a single toe, unless of course the owner of any one particular toe gave me reason to. My people everywhere I turned, so I barely knew a single one of ‘em? It just never mattered down there. Speed rushing through my viens lightened my step and quickened my pulse to keep pace with the 120 bpm D&B that was blowing the roof off the place. Tight white pants clung to an arse that I couldn’t help but take particular interest in. Long brown hair half way down her back flowed as she moved with the drums, swung to the bass. She turned around with a smile - I know that face. “Ahhhh! Can’t believe that’s you girlie, with your arse looking so fine. You trying to tease me or something? That’s not fair you know? It’s working”. And that’s how it started, a familiar face looking at me like I’ve never seen before, an undeniable spark, something we both wanted, yet far more something we both needed. The attraction pulling us towards each other, we dared not resist.

It was almost daylight by the time we were ready to get out of there, a quick stop to grab a bit of a pick-me-up and then straight off to my house. We were getting on like magic, a connection we believed to be unique to the two of us, right then and there. There wasn’t anything sleazy about it; we were comfortable with each other, we could share things that we felt no one else could understand. She told me some of her deepest thoughts; she shared with me horrific ordeals that she knew would go no further.

We talked for hours, it was almost as if we were hypnotised by each other, drawn into a trance by our shared desire to believe we had found that one person, that one soul in the whole of the universe with whom we should be at that precise moment- it couldn’t have been more perfect. A longing was growing in me, a desire to touch, to be touched. A need to expierence the closeness that was really only a breath away, to touch the soft form sitting just inches from me. I just couldn’t figure out what was holding us back, the more I thought about it the more I needed to be with her.

Before long we found ourselves kissing. We were both off our faces, the amphetamine doing the job nicely as it always did. She was getting really excited but said we couldn’t go any further coz she was on the rag. After a while of keeping up with the holding and kissing- and the whispering of sweet nothings, she was really starting to get boiled up, you know- grabbing at me real hard and biting into my shoulder and all that. She took my hand and guided it into her knickers; the only piece of clothing she was wearing by now. I was all like “yeah, but what about...?” She just said:

“I know but just here is ok, I need you to.”

So there she had me rubbing her clit, being careful not to let my hand slip too low. While she lay down, her eyes closed, biting her lip and making these little noises like an anxious puppy dog. One hand under her head gripping the pillow tight, the other under the doona holding onto her ankle as she stretched and arched her back briefly before curling up again, pulling her knee up to the side of her body, almost to shoulder hight to open herself right up. A little bit too inviting given the time of the month. She suddenly sat halfway up with her mouth and eyes wide open and let out a gasp that made my hard-on grow that much stronger, taking several deep breaths while propped up on one elbow. She wasn’t going to be teased any more. Now this is where the story takes a turn for the worse.

She slid her knickers off and got up on her hands and knees, reached underneath between her legs and pulled the tampon out- chucking it in the bin beside my bed with a thwaap. Fuck it smelt bad- a musty kind of a stink that sat heavy in the air. She reached over to the nightstand and grabbed a rubber, which she quickly rolled down my cock. She got up atop of me and grabbed a hold so she could slide down directly- no fucking around. It went in easily despite the tightness of her pussy, clenched hard under the influence of the narcotic. There was enough juice down there to flood a small Southeast Asian village, you know that menstrual blood is some thick slippery shit.

We fucked for ages, I thought it was never going to end, it started to get uncomfortable. I was much happier just kissing and teasing, talking, laughing, and even holding her while she cried. Pure emotional exposure, a vulnerability that I’ve always found appealing. Embracing me with such desperation, she would cling for dear life to anyone kind enough to listen, anyone kind enough to care. That was sweet, that was beautiful. This was ugly. This was brutal and animalistic. The girl had been a friend of mine for some time now but it felt like I was sleeping with a stranger. The way her face screwed up, her brow furrowed in deep concentration as she ground herself down on me over and over again, it almost felt like I was being fucked by someone who had a deep hatred for me and was punishing me for atrocities that I would never know. Sure, drugs and sleep deprivation can fuck-up your perception, but I honestly felt despised.

After putting all my effort in I managed to blow my load in her...but something didn’t feel quite right.... a notion hit me that left me breathless. Was that the condom all wrapped around the base of my dick? I couldn’t be sure but my fears were soon confirmed when she pulled herself up and a thick, smelly mixture of semen and period blood spilled and dripped out of her all over my belly and down into my pubic hair. It cooled quickly and separated, the thinner liquid spidering off like droplets of rain down a windowpane over the side of my torso.

I went dead quiet, she was too much of a mess to notice how reserved I’d become but I was noticing all sorts of shit. The sweet girl in need of companionship and a decent fuck was gone... what was left was certainly not a pretty sight. What felt like a warm curvaceous body pushing up against me had been revealed in the mid morning light as an emaciated form, with ribs protruding through grey flesh that thinly veiled the diseased being within. Cold sores around her mouth, track marks all up both arms. A ruined human, dead on the inside. I could see the rotting tissue, I could smell it and I can still taste the rancid flavour of infection. She leant forward to kiss me once more and as I rolled away the whore picked herself up off the bed, staggered across the room, and wiped her cunt on the curtains.

What’s done is done, I’m now too frozen with fear and regret to even care about the mess she’s made, and I never bothered to tidy up after her. This is my mess now, and no amount of bleach is going to clean it up, no amount of scrubbing is going to get this dirt off. To this very day I take a shower every few hours, each one carrying on well after the hot water runs out. Now I am the diseased one, now I spread fear, now I carry the virus.

And I shall carry it to my death.